


The Words We Have Forgotten

by DisappearingMuse



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: (later on), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Child Abuse, F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisappearingMuse/pseuds/DisappearingMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of what Souda would do when faced with someone who truly loved him- and the memories of his past self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arriving

**Author's Note:**

> The story is told in short scenes- that seemed like the best style for it. If you have any critique, I would be happy to hear it!

When you first saw him, blood and tears were rolling down his cheeks.

You crouched in the shade of a giant oak, your fingers tracing lines in the dusty playground gravel. Instinct urged you to help him up, but then the kids who pushed him would be after you, and you didn't have the bravery for that. Besides, approaching someone new made you a bit nervous. You'd only heard passing words about him before. Who hadn't? The whispers circulated through every classroom: why was he always crying, always running away, didn't he know that was what got people into this trouble? All you could do was agree aloud and silently curse yourself.

You looked up again, and the boy was gone.

~

The oak tree in your lawn had summoned that memory, no more than a subtle flicker in your mind that left sour regret in its wake. Strange- you hadn't thought of it in years. You filed it away immediately. You tended to avoid old memories and the kids who played starring roles in them. 

Your return to the present was equally unforgiving, though. High school started in a week, and soon you'd be back with the same kids you wanted to forget.

You swung by the mailbox and rifled through the contents, hoping not to come across something from the school- bills, bent magazines... and an envelope with the crest of Hope's Peak Academy, addressed to you.

It had to be a mistake. Or a prank. It would probably be some stupid note, like, "Hope's Peak invites you to eat ass." You could think of lots of kids who would target you for such a thing. But curiosity mastered you, and the crest did look authentic, so you tore the envelope open and unfolded the letter. It had your name at the top. The first paragraph read,

"This year, we decided to accept one student chosen by lottery among each and every one of the country's regular high school student. As a result, we invite you to attend our school as a person possessing Super High School Level Good Luck."

The rest of the letter sounded official enough, but you were still suspicious. Someone could have copied an actual Hope's Peak letter. And who ever heard of a talent like good luck? Even if anyone possessed that, it wasn't you. Bad fortune tailed you around every corner.

For a while, you'd been convinced you had some special talent. Every kid did. Hell, you knew people who daydreamed about getting into Hope's Peak almost since they were out of the womb. Then growing up stole away that easy confidence.

If this was real- you barely dared to hope- it could be your second chance. You could pretend that easy confidence was back, reinvent yourself.

Maybe it was stupid, but you decided to show up. It was worth looking dumb at the shining gates.

Summertime waned and you counted down the days, said your goodbyes while burying pride under tones of regret, and promised your guardians you would be safe. Finally red marks scarred each day on your calendar. You walked alone to the station, the world speeding up along with your heartbeat, and boarded the train headed for your destination. 

Most of the seats were full. You slid into the one free space you could see, a seat shared by a sleeping boy. His vibrant pink hair and neon green jumpsuit attracted your eyes to the spot- otherwise, you wouldn't have noticed it. The boy was curled up with his knees against his chest and his head resting against the window, a gray beanie slipping from his limp fingers. 

The train jerked into motion, and he still didn't wake. Sliding your suitcase under your seat, you watched the landscape roll past outside the window. Big buildings turned to farmland, the sky morphing from streaks of violet sunrise to clear baby blue. The boy's sides heaved steadily and he made soft noises in his sleep. You wished you could sleep, too, but you were too occupied with foolish excitement. Time melted into nothingness, becoming an endless cycle of train stops and moving. 

After an hour or so, the boy stirred- you were a bit disappointed, as you had begun to enjoy the silence. He stretched, then noticed you and screamed, pressing against the wall.

You leaned back. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!”

“Oh.” He calmed down, flashing you a grin that made you do a double take- his teeth were so sharp, he could've bitten your finger off. You'd heard the students were weird, but you hadn't expected this kind of weird. “Nah, it's alright.” He glanced around. “We're on the train, huh? Didn't mean to fall asleep on ya. I get carsick, so I took a huge sleeping pill before gettin' on.”

Easy confidence, you reminded yourself. “Dang. How do you get places, then?”

“I walk, but it sucks.” He lowered his feet, stretching out. “I'm already feelin' sick...how much longer are we on here?”

“Depends on where you're going,” you said. The train was making a few stops along the way, so you couldn't be certain.

“That's right,” he said. It was an obvious fact, but the way he said it sounded like it was a big revelation. “I'm goin' to Hope's Peak.”

“So am I," you said. “What are you? I mean, what's your title?”

“Super High School Level Mechanic.” He stuck out his tongue, which made you giggle, and he seemed to delight in that. “And you're...?”

“Super High School Level Good Luck,” you mumbled.

“That ain't a real thing, is it?” he said. 

“That's what I thought when I got the letter.” 

“Hm,” he said. “Sounds weird, but whatever. I'd want someone with that talent around me, y'know, to chip in on the good luck myself!”

You offered a weak smile. “It's your first year?”

“Yeah. Never have been on such a long train ride...”

“It's my first year too." 

He didn't answer, and you noticed how pale he'd gotten. “Look straight ahead,” you told him. “It helps.” He shifted his gaze to the seat in front of you, and an awkward silence passed. When he seemed to be feeling better, you said, “What's your name, anyway?”

“Souda Kazuichi.” 

The name sounded familiar, but you had no idea where it was from. Maybe on the news. He was the Super High School Level Mechanic, after all.

You introduced yourself. The two of you made idle conversation and you sifted through his words, searching for any way you might know him. Soon you arrived at your stop. You and Souda got off together, and he immediately ran towards someone's lawn and puked in the bushes. 

You rubbed his back, trying to soothe him, then felt awkward and withdrew your hand. “Geez. Way to start the school year.”

“I know, right?” He stood and wiped at his mouth. “Shit...”

You thought about apologizing to the owner of the lawn about their rosebushes and burst out laughing. You worried he would think you were odd, but he just attempted a grin and offered to walk with you. He needed it more than you did; his legs were shaky from the transition onto fixed ground, so he had to reach out for your hand several times.

When you reached the school, the two of you headed your separate ways. There was no doubt you'd see each other again. Whether you'd ever speak again was the question. He didn't look like someone who would hang around you. He could have just been talking to you to be nice. 

~

Hope's Peak was massive, containing enough to satisfy every Super High School Level need: a pool and a gym for athletes, a sprawling library for the literary, labs for the scientists, auditoriums for the musicians...the rooms were endless. It even had specialized classes in which to train these super-excelling kids. For them, it was heaven. For you, it was inspiring, but also isolating. People always asked you what your talent was. “Luck,” you would say, and they would respond with some variation of, “Well, that's something,” or “what do you even do with that?” You had no idea. You were half-convinced the founders just stuck “lucky” people in there to fill out their population. But as the days passed, the more included you felt. It gradually became obvious that the young deities society looked up to were just the same as other kids. 

And, like in normal schools, there were a plethora of assholes. You could walk down the hall and point to someone and say with certainty they had pushed some kid into a locker or hidden their weed in someone else's bag. It was disappointing, as you had hoped coming here wouldn't include that dynamic, that somehow these kids would be more mature. No such luck, especially in the middle of your second week, when people were starting to come out of the shock of being in a new place and starting to make friends, while you hardly found anyone you connected with.

A voice drifted over to you. “...And man, did you see those tits?” 

Trying to be inconspicuous, you turned. A group of boys loitered next to you...and Souda was among them. He added something about the poor girl's curves, noticed you, and waved, his eyes lighting up. You slammed your locker closed and walked away, ignoring laughter and cries of, “What'd you do, Souda ?”

Now he's got a reason why he's an asshole too, you thought bitterly. 

~

 _Can't believe I forgot my book...being in a new place sure has thrown me off._ Your footsteps echoed and screeched in the empty hallway. 

The sound of shaky breathing distracted you, and you peered around the corner. Souda leaned against the wall, his hat pulled over his eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks. 

You wanted to retreat, but there was no use returning to class without your textbook. You rounded the corner and he looked up like an alert animal. When he saw it was you, he pushed his hat back and wiped hurriedly at his eyes. 

“Um, hi,” he said.

“What's wrong?” You kept your voice flat and neutral.

"Nothing's wrong." He sobbed once, and you raised your eyebrows. He gave in. “J-just some shit with a girl...”

“What'd she do, dump you?” you said.

“Nah. She's off with some guy. That bastard...”

“Did you do anything to her?”

“The fuck'd you think that?” His voice came out choked.

“Hey, hey, it's alright,” you said softly. “I didn't mean...” As you searched for something to say, a memory tugged at you, your brain struggling to pull it free from the depths of oblivion. 

No wonder Souda's name sounded familiar. He was the boy from grade school.

“Why is he always running away and crying, doesn't he know that's what gets people in trouble?” He learned. Oh God, had he learned.

“Souda,” you said, “I remember you. From way back in grade school.”

He froze, his hands on his hips and his eyebrows arched. Then it seemed to sink in. “Y-you won't tell anyone about that, will you?”

“Why not? It's nothing bad,” you said.

“Of course it is! If they knew what I was like-”

“You were fine the way you were.” You looked at his reddened cheeks. "The way you...are."

He shook his head. “But ya won't tell anyone?”

“No, I wouldn't!” you said, almost flustered. You paused. “Why do you hang out with those assholes now?”

“My friends ain't assholes.” He wasn't crying anymore.

“Yes, they are. I don't get it. They're the same kind of people who would've pushed you around-oh.” It was obvious why he had changed. It was a defense mechanism. Another way to hide, but now it was more than hiding. The mask he put on was what he had become. 

“Oh what?” he said.

“Nothing.” 

You both seemed to find the patterns on the floor very interesting.

“Hey, I'm sorry, but I don't remember you,” he said.

“Huh?” you said.

“I don't remember you at all. Y'know, from back then.”

“Oh. It's okay. We never talked or anything.”

“We gotta fix that right now.”

“What?”

“I'm sayin' I want to talk to you.”

“Uh...sure.” What else could you say? Somehow, you didn't think you could stop yourself from forgiving him. Besides, it wasn't like he had hurt anyone or done anything to anyone. It was just one comment...

You shoved him gently away from the wall, letting your hands brush. “Now before we get caught, get the fuck to class.”


	2. Falling

The hallway was crowded with people, those who looked eager to get somewhere and those who had the glazed over looks of those whose day had beaten them down. You were somewhere in between, floating in a void of uncertainty, and not just about being in a new place. It was about Souda. Ever since your talk in the hall, he had ignored you, probably because you were a walking reminder of his past, and of his facade breaking. Now that you knew what he was really like, you were okay with the silence. But this morning, he invited you to his dorm, and muttered something to himself like he tended to do, like, "I couldn't stand not talkin' to ya." You hesitated, and he said, "Think about it, okay?" With that, he left. The incident haunted you the whole day. You wanted to blow him off, wanted to hate him, but your mind kept making up excuses: you needed a friend, he needed a friend who wasn't an asshole, and you wanted to see the other side of him again. The qualms grew louder until you caved in and headed towards his place after classes. You were just coming to tell him you didn't want to hang out with him after this, you promised yourself.

You knocked on his door, and he answered it so quickly he may have been waiting an inch away. He gave you a sharp-toothed grin. His happiness to see you was the worst kind of guilt trip, crumbling your resolve. "Come in!"

So you did.

Souda's dorm was hopelessly messy, cluttered with papers and machine parts. He began shoving things into the drawers as if he were just now thinking of cleaning up, but you said, "Don't worry about it, you should see my place." He smiled gratefully and collapsed in the middle of his bed, and you focused on anything else- the empty soda bottles in the trash can, the posters of sleek, shiny cars on the walls. You saw his notes from the previous class lying on the bed. They were more thorough than you expected; sometimes in class he would be scribbling notes, but most of the time he just flicked his pencil between his fingers, whispered to someone and occasionally turning around to look at you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, which always sent you into throes of silent giggles.

You lay down facing him. Closer than the two of you had been before, but you weren't sure why that mattered. He picked up a small machine from his bedside and turned it over and over in his hands. “Sorry,” he said. “Ain't enough to tinker with here. I get restless.”

“Don't be sorry,” you replied.

“You're so understanding,” he said admiringly. It sounded so dramatic that you wanted to laugh until you realized he was serious. You didn't know what to say- your mask was slipping as well- but he filled the space within seconds. “Ya know, when I got into Hope's Peak, I thought I'd become all rich and famous. Like people would be askin' for my autograph and stuff. Guess not.”

“I don't think it'd be as good as you're thinking,” you said. “I mean, cameras and interviews every day sounds kind of awful.”

“But then people automatically think you're good for somethin',” he said.

“I guess. But lots of people know about you now,” you said. “The students are all mentioned in newspapers all the time. Plus, it's better than being a lottery member.”

“Totally. Wait-” His hands fell still. “Ah, shit. I didn't mean to make ya feel bad.”

A vague threat of tears pushed from behind your eyes. You ignored it, wishing the subject didn't make you so weak. “No, no, it's alright. I sometimes think the whole 'super high school level luck' is bullshit, though.”

Souda shrugged. “Ya gotta be lucky. Ya met me!”

"Sure," you said.

He was eager to change the subject. "The 'famous' part, maybe I could do without. The 'rich', though, that's what I need. Never had much money growing up. Maybe I could finally even go on a field trip."

"You've never been on one?"

"Nope. I always skipped 'em. 'Course, then my dad would get mad at me for it. If he was in the right mood, he'd beat the crap out of me." He saw your expression. "What?

"He hit you?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Are you still living with him?"

Souda nodded.

"You have to leave." You knew you were treading on a precarious subject, but the idea of him getting hurt let panic race through your being, snatching away all scraps of common sense.

"I did. I'm here." He gestured around the room.

"I mean for good."

"No. No way." He sounded just as panicked.

You waited until he looked at you, your fear slowly dimming. He was here; you had time to convince him. Now wasn't the time. "Just tell me if you need anything." Wanting to distract him, you began pointing to the various parts of the machine on his end table, asking what they were for. Each time, he answered with a smile, and you wondered if it was as fake as yours.

“Hey,” he said. “How about ya come with me when the school's toolshed opens this weekend? You'll get to see me work magic on some car!”

You expected that you would be bored, but you didn't want to say no. “Sure.” 

He gave you a thumbs up. “See ya then!” Though you hadn't stayed for long, you got the feeling he wanted you to leave. Maybe the conversation had upset him, or he thought because of your tone that you wanted to leave, but this wasn't the only time. He always shied away when you felt like the two of you were getting closer. And now you realized it wasn't you. It was his dad. It was everyone who had hurt him, whether with blows or words.

~

Souda lay on his back beneath a bright orange car, screwdriver in hand. His soft mutters combined with the sharp clank of metal. The scent of grease choked the air, but it was comforting because it had come to remind you of him. Seeing him so interested in something didn't make the trip any more entertaining, but it made you happy anyway.

With a sigh of finality, he slid out from under the car, hair disheveled and jumpsuit stained with grease. He grabbed his hat off the floor and pulled it across his face, whisking away beads of sweat. For some reason, his smile left you struggling for words and oxygen. 

“Well, whaddya think?" he said. "A real expert, aren't I?"

“Yeah. Sure.” You didn't mean to sound unimpressed, but you were thinking about the feeling that came over you earlier. It quickly turned to fear, and you jumped up. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Where are you-?”

“I just remembered I have something to do.” You left and didn't stop walking until you reached your dorm. 

~

The school grounds were changing with the season, covered in snow and haunted by a chill that permeated the inside walls. Seeking warmth, other students constantly abducted the heated pool from the athletes. Your friends invited you to come with them, and you abandoned your homework. When you got there, it was already packed. One of the athletes was pretending to be a lifeguard while everyone else splashed each other. The air thrummed with the crash of tiny waves and the echo of voices off the slippery floors. You dangled your feet over the edge of the water, watching. 

Someone called your name and you turned. Souda was waving to you from the middle of a group of boys, up to his waist in water. You hesitated, then waved back. He swam over to you, and by the time he got over, you could see clearly his well-defined chest and the top of his black swim trunks. You tried not to stare at him, but he didn't have the same decency. He was staring at the whole group.

“I've hit the jackpot!” he said, then his gaze locked on you. “Ya look gorgeous! Those-”

You held up a hand, not wanting him to continue, although you were still reeling over the fact that he called you gorgeous- and another revelation. Souda didn't seem to mind superficial interactions, calling you gorgeous and walking away. Just like you'd thought, he must be scared, though it was the last thing he would admit. 

One of his friends called to him. He said a quick goodbye and left, looking back at you all the way. 

“What was that about?” one of your friends asked.

To distract her, you shoved her into the pool, making everyone laugh and stilling the slight tremor within you. 

Despite the unavoidable cliques, Hope's Peak created a sense of camaraderie for the students. They were all drawn to each other, interested in people as talented as them. You felt like you weren't truly a part of that, but some other students didn't seem to notice a boundary. Perhaps they saw you as a breath of fresh air among all the defining talents-hence Ibuki Mioda sitting next to you at your lunch table.

"Ibuki's inspiration's been running dry for days!" She was sitting in front of a sheet of paper covered in scribbled-out words in bubbly, slanted handwriting.

"You could try something happy," you offered.

"That's boring." She tilted her head like she always did when she was hearing something faraway. "Someone's coming." How she could pick that out from the noise of the cafeteria was beyond you.

She wasn't mistaken. Souda was coming over again.

“My, my, the inspiration's coming right back. Ibuki's gonna leave you two lovebirds alooone!” With a singsong squeal, Ibuki bounced up and left. 

“We're not-!” you started, but she was already gone.

“Hey,” Souda said absentmindedly. He was watching after her like something she said made sense.

“Uh, hi,” you said.

His eyes were focused on something across the cafeteria and you looked up. Someone was waving to him. He flipped them off, grinning good-naturedly, then turned back to you, lowering his finger and blushing. 

He was so cute. 

“You can go back to them if you want,” you said.

“Nah,” he said. “They'll just make me open more plastic bags with my teeth.” Ignoring your strange expression, he said, “But why don't you come with us sometime?”

“Um, I don't know if they're my kind of crowd.” I don't know if they're really your kind of crowd either, you wanted to say. 

You wanted him to see that. You wanted to take him in your arms and let him know that you understood. That he didn't have to be just like them.

Souda looked disappointed, then his smile returned. “Well, I guess someone as perfect as you wouldn't be around those idiots.”

“Perfect? Shut up.” Then you turned and realized he was gazing at you. 

The humming cafeteria faded to background static. You tried to tell yourself you were reading too much into things and Souda just wanted you to be his friend. Reminded yourself of all the times you stumbled upon him acting like a different person, like someone you would hate, but those moments didn't matter anymore. That wasn't him. You were a different person, too, one who had to take action. And you loved who he really was.

You didn't care anymore.

You leaned forward, taking Souda's face in your hands and kissing him. He stiffened- then you felt his eyes shudder closed against your skin. He slid you onto his lap and kissed you back, softly at first, then with the ferocity of someone who had wanted to do so for a long time. He seemed like he wasn't sure what to do with his hands and just ended up putting them around your waist. You almost felt like crying, wondering how something you had been resisting could feel so right. 

Finally he pulled away, his eyelashes brushing butterfly kisses against your cheek as the two of you opened your eyes.

“So what, are we going out yet?” he asked.

You laughed softly. “I guess we are.”

Souda gave you kisses on your cheek and your neck, making happy sounds under his breath. You could feel his heart pounding and wondered if he could tell yours was beating at the same tempo. You moved back to your seat- people were probably staring, and maybe Mahiru had even snapped a picture. 

“So...” He put a hand behind his back. “When are we, y'know, going on a date?”

“Today, if you want,” you said. “I'm always free, I mean, usually. My place?”

“Great!”

Souda jumped at the sound of the school bell, and you stroked his shoulder while he quickly calmed down. You stood up, grabbing your things. He kissed your cheek and said goodbye, taking off down the hall.


	3. Forgetting

You never imagined you would be going on a date with Souda of all people. 

You were coming down from the high that pushed you to kiss him, and now it seemed like a terrible idea. But then he came to the door and you felt the familiar rush of something in your chest. 

“I missed ya,” he said.

“It's only been two hours,” you said.

“Really?” 

Laughing, you took his hands. They were shaking, and you realized he must be as nervous as you were. He seemed so different than the guy who said he wanted to sleep with you. But that was just it- he probably hadn't done anything more relationship-wise than saying that. You looked back at him, searching for something to say to make him feel more at home. 

“Ah, that's right.” He reached into his pocket, and your mind swirled with cheesy visions of chocolates and roses.

He pulled out Silence of the Lambs.

“What...?” You stared at the movie case.

“Thought we could watch this together.” Souda put his free hand behind his back. 

“Uh, sure. But I mean, no offense by this, I didn't think you were the type to watch horror movies-”

“Great! And, uh, ya know, if you want to jump into my arms at any point, just let me know.” He licked at the thin air.

That explained it. Souda's only dating experience must be from movies themselves. 

The two of you settled on your bed. He messed with the TV remote on your end table. “I still can't get over all the dorms here having televisions in 'em. Like, the founders are probably Super High School Level Rich Kids.”

You didn't have the heart to tell him that the founders probably weren't in high school anymore. “Well, I guess they're willing to treat us like we're important. A bit much, but it's nice.”

“Totally. By now, I've just disassembled my TV. Don't watch it much anyway.”

The opening scenes flashed by. You were hardly paying attention, too focused on whether you should say anything, what you should do after this, whether it was awkward. Whether you should bridge the gap between the two of you.

Suddenly, Souda screamed and shoved himself into your lap. “The fuck? I'm gonna get cursed just from seein' that!”

"That part wasn't even scary!" You put your arms around him and laughed. “Looks like your plan kinda backfired.” 

You kissed the top of Souda's head. He stared at you with surprise in his eyes...and fear?

Surprised yourself, you began to let go of him. But his eyes softened, and he touched his nose to yours, kissing you. All you could feel was the sharp teeth brushing your lips. His hands slid across your back, over your shoulders, through your hair. 

You couldn't stop thinking about that moment of hesitation. It explained why he wasn't the one to kiss you first. 

There weren't words for it. Not yet. 

You let lying with him speak for you. 

~

The next few weeks were half dream, half harsh reality. 

You spent almost every night beside Souda, either in his bed or yours; some nights in each others' arms, some nights just lying side by side. Every time there was a storm, he acted like he wasn't afraid, but the way he clung to you on those nights said otherwise. The days were much of the same. When he saw you in the hall, he would practically run over to kiss you, but you figured he did it mostly as a display for everyone else. That didn't include the everyone who mattered to you. They seemed more distant than usual, though it could've been your imagination. You worried that Souda's crowd might start treating you like one of them, but that never happened. It only solidified your belief that he didn't truly fit in with them. When he wasn't with them, he stuck with you as long as he could in a way that bordered on obsession. Hell, if you told him to get on his knees and fetch a newspaper, he'd do it right away. Whether he was obsessed with you or just the idea of having someone to love was anyone's guess. 

“Why are you dating someone like him?”

Before you knew it, you were under Mahiru Koizumi's perpetually irritated gaze. Not that you could blame her this time.

“I know, I know, I could do so much better,” you said. She told you that around five times a day. “But...I don't know.”

“Love is unconditional,” offered Sayaka Maizono, appearing behind her. She always popped up wherever she was needed, and said all the right things, though when asked whether she was psychic, she waved it off as "good intuitions."

As usual, she had Ibuki Mioda in tow, whose smile bubbled over with excitement. “That's right! “Ibuki even has great lyrics for this! 'Will you love him, or will you bathe in his blood?'”

“That's just...great,” you said.

“Really,” Mahiru said. “I don't know about him.”

“Mahiru, you can't-” warned Maizono. 

“I'm just telling it like it is!” said Mahiru.

“It's okay,” you said. “She's right.”

“Then why do you stay with him?” she demanded.

“There's never just one answer for that, is there?” Ibuki grinned. “My, my, Ibuki said something smart!”

“Yeah, you're right. There's not one answer,” you said. 

"And the answers are good ones," Maizono said knowingly.

"What answers?" Just what vibes had she picked up?

"You love him," she said. "You think maybe with you, he can be himself." It wasn't as if you'd been thinking that exactly, but the feeling had been hovering around in your mind, something you knew without the words to express it. You nodded slowly.

"So?" Ibuki said. "Will some bathing in blood happen soon?"

"I told you I'm not a psychic," said Maizono. "No bathing in blood. But sometimes, when I talk to him, which isn't much, I sense this...I don't know, pain." Ignoring Ibuki's mutter of "psychic" under her breath, she returned to you, "I thought it would go away when the two of you got together, because anyone could tell how much he wanted it to happen." In hindsight, it was obvious to you, too. "But it hasn't."

“What hasn't?” said a familiar voice.

Mahiru whirled to face Souda as he put his arms around your shoulders. “God, can't you leave any of your crushes alone for ten minutes?” But she took the hint in your eyes and left.

“That girl,” he said.

“She has reasons for what she says, trust me.” You kissed his hand. “Like you do.”

“Whaddya mean, like I do?”

You didn't want to answer him, but the silence grew to be too much. “It's just that...Souda...why did you change from all those years ago?”

He sat down next to you. “You're in love with me now. Why the fuck should it matter?” 

His wording struck both of you silent again. In love with me. Surely this wasn't love, not when there was so much doubt. “Because you were fine the way you were.”

“Ya didn't know me then,” he said. “Believe me, ya wouldnt've loved me.”

“I love that side of you now,” you said.

“Ain't no other side of me. Can we just drop this?” You flinched away at his harsh expression, but he took your hand again, visibly panicking. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean-”

“I know you didn't.” You traced your fingers across his. “I'm sorry, too. About not doing anything when those kids pushed you around. I mean, that was back in kindergarten, but-”

“Wasn't anything anybody could do. The problem was me.”

“No. No, it wasn't.” 

Souda looked away. Your words couldn't mean anything to him when he was so set on this path of changing. You hadn't seen the real Souda, whatever that was. 

If that still existed. 

~

It was another one of those days that you would have admitted felt right. Especially when Souda slammed the door to his room shut and kissed you. Why he toed the line between never leaving your side and growing as distant as hope, you didn't know. But as long as he wanted to be here, you didn't care.

He tugged at your sleeve, and you let him clumsily slip your shirt off. Before you knew what you were doing, you unzipped his jumper and took off his undershirt. Soon you were standing in only pants, and he was standing in nothing. He cradled your elbows, sliding his hands down the length of your arms.

“What the...oh, that's right.” You'd forgotten what he said before about being into bone structure. He really hadn't been kidding about that.

He paused. “Ya don't think it's weird, do ya?” 

It wasn't your first choice of intimacy, but seeing him get to fulfill his cute, if strange, wish was enough. “Of course not. As long as you don't stick a screwdriver up my ass.”

“Now that ya don't have to worry about.” Souda gently bent the joints of your elbows, then worked his way down to your hips and your knees. 

When he stopped, you pulled him onto the bed with you. Neither of you made any move to do anything more than lay together. You weren't sure if Souda wanted to but was too scared to, and you didn't want to find out. You messed with his tiny braid, trying to undo it, but he nibbled your finger every time you got close. 

You giggled. “Stop! That could be dangerous!”

Souda gave you a softer bite, making both of you collapse into laughter. You finally got your hand through and undid his braid, stroking back his hair. 

It felt like hours before you glanced at the clock. He looked over too and sighed. “I don't wanna go back to my place.” 

“Then stay. I mean, if you want. It's the weekend anyway.” You worried that he would bring up sleeping with you again. Instead, he took it literally, curling up beside you and closing his eyes.

You turned off the bedside lamp. Souda was a restless sleeper, constantly shifting around and moving the blankets. On impulse, you took him into your arms. Eventually you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. Lulled by the warmth of someone beside you, you fell asleep. 

~

Souda invited you to his dorm, which was strange. He usually offered to go out somewhere. You arrived and found him in a last-minute rush, shoving things off the bed. When he saw you in the doorframe, he hid something behind his back, but not before you saw it.

“Souda, that's...that's adorable.”

“Shit. Ya didn't see anything,” he said.

“Souda, come on, it's cute.”

He sighed, laying it out on the bed. It was a small, tattered, dark blue blanket with red rocket ships all over it.

“Have you had it since you were a kid?” you asked.

“Yeah. But I don't- I don't sleep with it or anything. I just brought it 'cause my dad might've thrown it away if I didn't.” 

You wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and kissed him. He kissed you back with the tenderness that had first surprised you about him. Soon he broke away and wound his fingers through the blanket's frayed edges.

“There's something I want to tell ya,” he said, as if it hadn't been obvious.

And he told you about everything you had suspected in a small way. About his friend who betrayed him. About why he changed his appearance and how his attitude followed along with it. How he couldn't trust anyone. 

None of it really came as a surprise. All along you'd known something was broken. Something that probably couldn't be put back together, even by your hands.

“So I don't know if I can do this,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Us.”

You dropped his hand, tears budding in your eyes.

Souda took your hand again. “But I'm doin' it anyway.”

“I know you can trust me.” You took his hands. “I know you don't think I am, but I'm here for you. I want to hear this stuff. I want to be here when you...”

Souda touched his lips to yours, cutting you off.

That was when you were sure. Although he tried not to show it, he saw more to you than just a pretty face. He cared about you more than the girl he had been crying over several months ago.

So why couldn't he act like it in front of other people? 

The thought was just a whisper in your brain, and you pushed it away.


	4. Losing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parody? Seriousness? How about just shoving it all in a giant mixing pot?

The days felt extremely complicated for a routine so simple. You worked in the mornings and found solace in something in the afternoons. Hope's Peak threw piles of work at you every day, as if the administration thought Super High School Level translated to Super High School Level Bust My Ass For You. Even outside the overprotective walls, the winter chill absorbed everything. Walking outside was near impossible. 

Yet the fact that you were here made everything okay- and there was still the heated pool.

But, always the mechanic, Souda found a way to throw a wrench into things. 

The two of you lay on his bed, your eyes closed, and his probably wide open. Although he constantly searched for your touch, usually around this time he would get restless. You wouldn't have expected anything else from someone who worked with his hands for hours on end. 

He shifted in your arms, and you leaned forward to give him a final kiss before you let go of him. His worried expression stopped you. “What's wrong?” you asked.

Souda hesitated. “Um, I was thinking...could we just say that we did...ya know...last night...”

You sat up. A part of you knew this would happen eventually, but that didn't dull the ache in your chest. “No, we can't.”

“Why not?” He sounded hurt. Not angry. He'd never been truly angry at you that you could remember.

“Because you just want to tell everyone so you'll look cool!” 

“It's not like I'd actually-”

“That's the problem! Why do you care what they think? Look. I want to be with you, but when you say stuff like that...” You resisted the need to comfort him, while at the same time, you wanted to throw something at him. “Just fucking stop, okay? That's not who you are!” 

“Ya can't tell me what I am and what I'm not-”

“Yeah. I guess only you can do that for yourself. And you're not doing a very good job of it, are you?”

You swung off the bed and left the room, ignoring his protests behind you.

~

A week glided by, you hadn't spoken a word to Souda. You hadn't realized how much his presence had infiltrated your life until now. The things you used to like about him seemed so insignificant, and yet you were constantly reminded of them.

Every time your eyes met in the hall, you glanced away. He kept staring after you like he used to. You silently dared him to speak to you each time, and eventually he stood up to the challenge, but with a shaking voice. “Are ya still mad at me?”

“Of course I am.” 

Souda reached out a hand. “I'm sorry, babe. I don't understand-”

“Well, there's a lot of things you don't understand! And I hope you find out,” you said bitterly. “I hope you find out what it feels like to actually love somebody once you grow out of this crap!” 

“This crap? You're supposed to like me if I act like this! That's what everyone else does and they all have somebody! Look, I can be anyone ya want me to be-”

“No one who loves you wants you to act like anything other than yourself!”

“Are ya leaving me?” There were tears in Souda's eyes. Everything you had said before haunted you. You can trust me. I'm here for you. They meant nothing now, and you felt sorry for him, but it was time to think about you. To throw his problems aside and look at yourself for one second. You'd been so caught up in his issues that you hadn't even done that.

“Things are just...complicated,” you said.

“Ain't all that complicated.” In his mind, it wasn't. He liked you, and that was all there was to it. You couldn't help feeling guilty, like he was a dog tugged around by your chains, except in truth the situation was reversed. 

“Will you just leave me alone for a while?” you asked. You knew that would be the hardest part for him, never seeing you, but he nodded. 

He watched you leave.

~

You lay in bed staring at the ceiling, turning the last few days over in your mind. The shit comments Nidai would shout in the middle of class, which the teachers had just grudgingly accepted by now. The time you said a passing hello to Tsumiki and made her whole day. The day Ibuki hijacked the speaker system and blasted her latest song throughout the school.

Yes, everything was back to normal. Definitely. Without a doubt.

Lightning slashed bright streaks through the night, chased by the growl of thunder. There was another faint sound too. It came again -someone knocking at the door. No way were you going to leave your warm bed for anyone, especially not for the voice you heard outside. 

The clock marked five hellish minutes that Souda knocked on your door and called your name. You changed your mind: you'd leave your bed for anyone who was keeping you from sleeping. 

You flung the door open. “I don't want you in here.” Souda grabbed your sleeve at the next strike of lightning. “You're not fooling me! I know how you really are!” And that wouldn't change. Thinking a single person could take away his facade had been dumb. “Just go back to your room, everything's gonna be fine.” You didn't believe the words, yourself. It wasn't just him being here yet so far away, everything felt wrong. Everything everybody was doing was without you.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. 

“I know you are,” you found yourself saying.

“I don't know how to say it...I don't know what ya even want me to act like.”

“It isn't about acting.” Your voice caught. “Just be who you are right now.”

You turned around, wrenching out of his grasp. But in the dim light, Souda had already seen the tears in your eyes. He brushed your shoulder with a hand, and you didn't protest. He laced his arms around your waist, resting his head against your neck like he always did when he was trying to comfort you. Being in someone's arms didn't take away the pain, but numbed it until you could hardly feel it. 

You stroked his hands. “I'm tired, you know.” 

Souda lifted you in his arms, his nonathletic body struggling under your weight. “This how it's supposed to go?” He carried you to the bed and covered you in the sheets, crouching at your bedside. Lightning shocked color into the room, and he pressed against you. His hair was in complete disarray- you stroked a hand through the tangles.

Slowly, the light and sound faded away. He whispered to you, “I want ya to be that person. The one ya said would love me.”

Maybe this was all a huge mistake. Your life could go on without him. 

But you had room in your mind for someone else.

“I want to be that person too,” you said. 

Although the heavy rain was abating, Souda wasn't calming down. His breathing grew shallower than ever. He traced a finger down the side of your face, brushing your tears away. “I wanna kiss ya really bad right now.”

You tilted Souda's face towards yours and kissed him, and you were sure he could feel your breathing speed up too. He kissed you back again and again as you let him climb into bed with you. Both of you were shaking, and it was as if you were trying to keep each other whole. But he was the one whispering to you that it would be alright. Once the storm had crawled away, both of you were just holding onto each other like you had never known what it was like to feel another human's touch.


	5. Remembering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * It's in the tags, but this section has mention of blood and child abuse, just as a warning *
> 
> Man...I had a long debate with myself over whether this would be the last chapter or not. The verdict? Yes, it is. This fic started out as a short, fairly self-indulgent thing, and now here we are at five chapters. I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has offered their support. :)

At this time of year, every hall in the academy felt like a creature roused from a long slumber. Lockers slammed for the last time in months. In the most severe cases, everybody tossed their papers into the air, letting them rain down like oversized confetti. You pushed through crowds of revelers, motivated by having only two classes until the winter break. 

You caught Souda's eye and remembered why part of you was dreading it.

As he approached you, he slipped on the discarded papers beneath him. You caught his arms, pulling him towards you. He gripped you so tightly that you would have thought he was going to fall again had you not known better. 

“I missed ya so much.” He said that every day now, as if you could forget how the two of you split up.

“I missed you too,” you said. “And I'm _gonna_ miss you.” You looked hard into his eyes. “I don't want you going to back to your dad. I don't want him hurting you.”

“He isn't gonna hurt me.” Souda looked away, and seemed to see something across in the hall. “Oi, Hinata!”

Ignoring how blatantly he had ignored _you_ , you turned to see a boy who looked plain for someone attending Hope's Peak. He wore a suit and tie and had ruffled brown hair, and he met your gaze with a somewhat withdrawn smile. 

“Look, babe, it's another lottery student!” said Souda in fake amazement. “Oh God, here he comes!”

“Souda, maybe you could introduce us normally?” the boy said.

You did the job for him, holding out a hand to the new arrival and introducing yourself.

“I'm Hajime Hinata. This guy's friend.” He jerked a finger towards Souda.

“This guy's soul friend,” Souda corrected. “I was hopin' the two of ya would finally meet!”

“Yeah, because you were always too nervous to let me do it,” he said, grinning.

“Well, he's talked about you before,” you said.

“And Souda's mentioned you about a hundred times.”

“What a surprise.” You were wondering what to say next when the bell trilled.

“Well, nice to meet you,” said Hinata.

“You too!” It truly was. Looked like Souda was branching out from the crowd he was trying to impress. In some strange way, the boy seemed impressed with him.

~

Your first steps into the train station submerged you in the memory of your first arrival at Hope's Peak. If that letter hadn't come in the mail, you wouldn't have met Souda. Cheesy as it sounded, maybe your good luck was real. A few weeks ago, you considered it bad luck, but now you had been around him long enough to see everything. The way he flipped between rigid performances and late-night moments of truth. The times he had no problem speaking to you and lapses in which he seemed afraid to even touch you. You caught glimpses of a side of him that perhaps only you saw. 

“I really don't want you to go back there,” you said, leaning on his arm.

“I've been away for months.” At least he was over playing dumb about the subject. “There's nothin' I could've done to make my dad angry.”

“Yeah, but...”

“We're practically in walking distance of each other. Must be if we went to the same kindergarten, right? Ya can come see me whenever. Then you'll know I'm okay. Just stop worrying, will ya?”

You dug through your bag and took out a pen, scribbling your address on his arm. “Now I will.” The train pulled up, huffing like an impatient dog waiting for its master. “Did you take your nausea pills? And the sleeping pills?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope you don't throw up again.”

Souda laughed nervously. “It'll be like the first time we met.”

“Oh yeah, because that's _totally_ romantic,” you said.

The train's doors glided open. The two of you stepped on and found a seat. By the time it inched forward on the tracks, he was snoring on your shoulder. Hours slipped by like that, and you wondered if you would have to carry him out the door. 

He woke a few minutes before the train stopped, getting queasy as soon as he did, and you waited with him at the station until he felt better. Walking separate ways was an effort. You gave him one last kiss and plunged into the crowd. When you looked back, he was lost among the moving bodies.

~

Your place was empty when you got home. It was no surprise. Your transfer to Hope's Peak seemed to send the message to your guardians that you needed more space, and that meant seeing your whole family much less. It felt odd, being completely alone for once. Sure, there had been moments at Hope's Peak that made you feel like someone far too lost to be retrieved. But walking through halls in which the only sounds were your footsteps was a different kind of emptiness. You were used to the rustling of other dorm members in the late hours. Without that, falling asleep itself would be peaceful, but foreign.

You messed around in the kitchen, your cooking skills nearly forgotten over the months of paperwork forcing you to call for takeout. You gave up and searched the freezer for pre-prepared food. In the midst of all the shuffling, you hardly heard the doorbell ring. 

Maybe one of your family members lost their key. You crept to the window and peered out.

What was Souda doing here? 

You opened the door and immediately took a step back. Blood trailed from Souda's split lip and the cuts on his arms. His skin was laced with marks from hands that were supposed to be gentle with him. 

_I told you not to go back there._ The words scraped at the back of your throat, although they were the worst things you could have said. They were soon drowned under waves of panic. “Oh my God, we have to get those wounds washed off.” You reached out. Souda flinched, moving his hand through the air as if to bat your hand away. “I'm sorry!” Feeling useless, you dropped your hands and forced on a calm expression. As close as you could get, anyway. “I'll get everything, okay? Don't leave.”

You rummaged around until you found the first aid. When you returned to the room, the front door was shut. You panicked again, searching through the house until you found Souda lying on your couch. He was shaking- from more than the cold, but your brain registered that he must have walked all the way over here in this weather. Why you and not someone closer? Was he afraid his dad would have found him?

You set the first aid and a wet washcloth beside Souda, who was staring at nothing in particular. He didn't even look up when you laid a blanket over him. You didn't want him falling into whatever he saw that wasn't you, that wasn't reality anymore. “Honey,” you said, jerking him out of the trance. “It's over. Nobody's gonna hurt you.” Tears budded in his eyes, but he swiped a hand across his face in an automatic gesture. “It's okay. You can cry now.” Souda looked at you in surprise, and you realized no one must have ever told him that. They'd only told him to become stronger, only beat him to the ground when he showed any weakness. He shook his head and wiped at his eyes again. You handed him the washcloth, watching him run it clumsily across his face, and gave him cloth and bandages when he reached out a shaking hand. For once, you were careful not to let your fingers brush.

“Let me know if I can do anything for you.” You got up and walked around, pretending to busy yourself, watching him out of the corner of your eye to make sure he was still wholly with you. Eventually he closed his eyes, and you grabbed some pillows and collapsed in the corner of the room opposite him. You stared at the ceiling with your thoughts keeping you awake until the hands of sleep tugged you back into oblivion. 

~

Long after the sun's feeble light stretched through the windows, you woke. The memory of last night swarmed your mind. You sat up, looking across the room. 

The couch was empty.

You searched the house, and finally checked your phone. It flashed with a message from Souda. Hearing his voice calmed you down, but not the exhaustion and brokenness hidden behind the words.

_I'm sorry, babe. Hope me being gone didn't worry ya too much. I, uh...called somebody to get me out of my dad's house. And sorry I didn't let ya touch me last night. I'll make up for that, I promise. Don't worry about me._

Static crinkled through the speakers.

_So, um, I'll see ya when I can. Hope ya have a good break._

You called him to make sure things were really okay. No answer. Not the first time, or the second hours later, or the third when you already were looking up his address. The first touches of darkness were creeping into the sky as you stole the car out of the driveway. You got turned around several times, counting the house numbers and hoping no one would catch you speeding, wondering what you could even do if he was still there.

Finally, you pulled up in front of a tiny house, its paint peeling and its roof uneven. Attached to it was a shed with the door open- who knew if the door was even able to close in its battered condition. You peered inside. Tool shelves lines the walls and spilled oil polished the floors. The bulky shapes of machines created a wall against the outside world. You tried looking through the windows, but it was dark inside. You were relieved for a moment before you looked closer at the shed and noticed something moving. No, someone. You studied the silhouette until you were certain it was Souda, then parked somewhere where his father hopefully wouldn't notice your car. 

You crossed the street and peeked around the door. Souda was too absorbed in his work to hear you, or hadn't heard you above the sound of clanging metal. You called his name, and he screamed and jumped, sending his wrench skidding through puddles of oil. “What're ya doing here?”

“You're a bad liar.” At least his face was devoid of any new bruises. 

“I'm not lyin'! It's just...” He trailed off, staring at the floor hopelessly. “Get out before my dad finds ya here.”

“I'm not leaving until I know you're safe,” you said.

Souda threw a nervous glance at the door to the house. “I gotta at least get out before he hears us. Shit, just...come on.” He heaved himself to his feet and followed you out to your car. You could smell alcohol, but you knew he hadn't been the one drinking it. Your panic gave you the illusion of warmth in the freezing weather. 

When both of you were hidden behind the vehicle, he paused and looked at you with something akin to anger for the first time. “I told ya, I'm okay. Why didn't ya listen to me?”

“Souda, he's abusing you-”

“It isn't abuse if I deserve it.”

“Souda...” That was the last thing you expected to hear. “You don't deserve it. You don't- oh God, I shouldn't be arguing with you,” you said as you took out your phone, “I should be calling somebody for you-”

“Fuck no! Then what'll happen to the bike shop?”

“You don't need the bike shop, now you're a Super High School-”

“Well, Dad does. He needs something. That's our only money.”

“I don't want you getting hurt for that!”

“It's not gonna happen again.” You weren't sure how much he believed himself. 

“You don't know that. You just don't.”

Souda sounded on the verge of tears. “D'ya think I wanna be here?”

He didn't flinch away when you reached out. You hugged him, rubbing his back. “Then come with me just for tonight.”

He hesitated. “I can't be in cars.”

“I'll walk with you. I'll come back for the car tomorrow.”

“I want to, but...”

“I'm not leaving without you,” you said. 

Souda pulled back and nodded. You slipped your hand into his, but you knew all the comfort in the world couldn't undo what had already been done. 

The streets were near silent, and so were the two of you. Souda was probably numb from it all, and you were wrapped up in deciding what to do, when you could slip away and call help. 

Halfway to your house, your only way of seeing was the faint streetlights. Souda squeezed your hand and said, “It won't happen again. I promise. Dad always says he's sorry, and then it doesn't happen for a long time. He's not a bad person.”

Nothing could convince you of that. “I'm so sorry. I should've made you stay at my place over break.”

“Ain't your fault. I didn't think it'd happen again. But the old man just wants me to be fuckin' perfect. Says he doesn't want me to be a screwup like him.” Souda laughed, and even that was a performance, dry and humorless. “Serves him right that I am a screwup.”

“You're not,” you said.

“Yeah. I am.” He wrenched his hand out of yours, startling you. “I can't pretend like I don't think so anymore, babe. I'm so fucked up!” You reached out for him again, but he tore out of your grasp, landing with his back against an alley wall. “Ya know how pathetic I was before. And when I try an' fix that, it doesn't make ya like me, it doesn't make Dad like me, I'm no good either way!” Souda's voice trembled. “Why're ya still hangin' around me? Ya said ya wanna know who I really am, you're just gonna get some asshole who ain't goin' anywhere, and ya wanna know the truth, I hate myself! Is that what ya wanted to hear?” His knees gave out, his energy spent, and he sank down against the wall, unable to hold in his tears anymore.

You weren't sure if he wanted to be alone, but you knew he couldn't be. You sat next to him, and when he didn't move away, you gathered him in your arms, whispering, "I've got you. There's nothing wrong with you, sweetheart." He shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with you." You kissed his forehead, and he clung to you, sobbing. 

You rocked him back and forth, wishing you could protect him from whatever was chasing him inside his mind. Whatever words and whatever connections of the fist had gotten so deep under his skin that something just snapped. But it wasn't going away, not now, maybe not ever. 

For hours, or maybe just minutes, he was crying like he could hardly breathe, shaking and whimpering and digging his fingers into your shirt as if you were the only thing keeping him together. Then everything became like a clock winding down. Souda's breathing became even, his grip loosening like he didn't have the strength to hold onto you anymore. Eventually he fell silent, and you could almost feel a small weight lifted off his shoulders. He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes tinged with red.

You brushed tears off his cheeks. "I know you have a lot to figure out. But it'll be okay. I'll be right here with you the whole time." 

“Ya don't hate me?” he said.

“I love you,” you said. 

The words were out before you could even think of them. Maybe it was wrong to say after only knowing him for a year, and after everything the two of you had gone through, and all the things you hadn't gone through. They hung in the space between you. Souda's eyes widened, and he closed that space to kiss you. 

“I love ya too,” he said.

And someday, Souda, you thought, I hope you'll love yourself.

~

Souda's nearly-blue fingers had convinced you to bring him home. The two of you lay on his bed when he said it.

“Honey, I have something to tell ya.” His voice was still weak.

“Oh, God, don't tell me you're pregnant,” you said. You weren't surprised when Souda didn't laugh, but you wanted to keep things as normal as you could for him tonight. He probably saw right through everything. How upset his shaking voice made you. How much it scared you that you told him you loved him, and he said it back. How you skirted around the topic that wouldn't leave your mind. 

Souda must have mistaken your trembling hands for shivering, because he pulled your bedsheets tighter around you. You went with his assumption, snuggling closer to him. “I lied,” he said, his voice carrying the soft waver of one trying to stay awake. 

Your heart jumped. “I know. But everything's okay now-”

“I wasn't talking about what happened today. I lied about not rememberin' ya from elementary school.” 

“You think that really matters?” you said, not unkindly, but you realized too late how unkind it might sound to him.

He didn't notice. “Yeah, it does. 'Cause ya said somethin' to me.”

“I did?” You had no memory of speaking a single word to him back then, just of watching him. Watching him cry and get beat up and chased around while you wished you could do something, but never did. “What'd I say?”

“I don't remember.”

“You don't remember?”

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“No, don't be sorry! It doesn't really matter. We should go to bed.” You stroked his hair like you always did to help him sleep. 

“What's gonna happen tomorrow?” he asked.

“I don't know, Souda. But I'll still be here with you.”

~

You knew it didn't matter, but your mind searched for the memory anyway. 

It came to you months later. Perhaps it was something your brain invented of its own accord, trying to fill in the gaps the past left behind. But it felt real.

The memory was foggy, as were all your memories from that time: on the last day of kindergarten, and you ran into Souda. He was sitting alone at the school's entrance, but he looked as relieved as everyone else to be several hours away from leaving hell- a hell for him more than anyone else. He shot you one of the preoccupied glances that strangers reserved for other strangers. Your instinct was to look away, either because you were wrongly afraid of talking to an outcast or rightly afraid of talking to another human being. But you had nothing left to lose. You said hello to him. Whether he said it back or not was lost in the clutches of time.

You don't know what you expected those words to be. Something that would change your life, maybe. At least something more than dumb small talk, something that would have helped him. No, it was just one word. 

One word, and the first time you had ever seen him smile. 

You hadn't realized you were lost in thought until the door you were staring at clanged open. Souda walked out, unmarked by any scars except those from the table he had fallen into a week ago, his hair newly dyed pink, but his eyes their natural dark brown. You always told him they were beautiful, but you weren't sure whether he believed you yet. Not that you could blame him. It took you months to believe him when he called anything about you beautiful.

He rushed forward, nearly knocking the glasses off his nose. The scent of hair dye misted over your senses as you held him close. 

“Hi, babe,” he said belatedly.

You kissed his forehead. “Hi, Souda.”

_I'm so glad to meet the real you. Whoever that is._


End file.
